The Pain of Separation
by WitheringSage
Summary: Raja deals with her fear of being separated from her Uncle Ardeth.


**The Pain of Separation**

_Absence from whom we love  
is worse than death.  
-William Cowper _

Chronology: Tristan is 19. Lancelot is 17. Raja is 9.

Raja's legs kicked gently back and forth under the table while she ate vegetable soup. The tavern was quiet; the patrons sparse as it was merely lunchtime and most of the Roman soldiers were out. She sat next to the large frame of Dagonet, Tristan across from her. Her uncle was in conversation with Arthur in his study.

The tavern doors opened, and Raja smiled as she saw her cousin, Lancelot, walk into the tavern towards their table. She waved.

"Hey, runt," he greeted her, tousling the top of her head, taking a seat next to her.

Her face scrunched in indignation as she smoothed her black tresses down. "I'm not a runt." Well, she was a few inches shy of four feet, but she was getting there.

"You're the smallest nine year old I've ever seen," Lancelot replied.

Raja's mouth opened, ready to comment, but her eyes did a quick sweep of the three men she was sitting with. She was an ant among giants. "Just a slow grower," she muttered.

"Should eat more meat," Tristan said, taking a hearty bite of his steak.

The little Egyptian looked down at her bowl of vegetable soup. Fresh, cooked carrots, string beans, some onions, garlic, mushrooms, chopped cabbage. Thick gravy made with butter, flour, a bit of sugar, and salt and pepper. "There is nothing wrong with what I'm eating," she protested, resuming the consumption of her meal.

There was a light chuckle all around, Lancelot was served his food. Light chatter sounded in the room. Raja picked up her cup of herb tea, stopping mid-gulp. Tristan saw her sniff, looking sideways at Lancelot, and he smirked.

She turned discreetly towards Dagonet, tapping him on the shoulder. He bent his head down so Raja could whisper in his ear. "Lancelot's wearing that icky perfume again." Dagonet smiled and nodded.

"Are you talking about me?" Lancelot demanded.

"Yes," she answered honestly. "You smell."

"I do not."

"You're wearing perfume again."

Lancelot's mouth straightened into a stiff line. "Well, it's not my perfume."

Raja looked confused. "You borrowed it?"

"No, I-"

Tristan's gold eyes settled on him, and Dagonet cleared his throat in warning. Like the little girl needed to know of Lancelot's daytime activities. The curly haired knight took notice.

"Nothing," he said to his cousin.

Raja opened her mouth to say something else. They were holding something back. The doors opened again, this time her Uncle Ardeth and Arthur walked in. When Ardeth was in earshot, Raja spoke: "How does someone have perfume that isn't theirs if it wasn't borrowed? That isn't _plausible."_ She stressed the last word. Her uncle gave her one word a day that she was supposed to use as often as she could, so long as it could be used accurately.

The Egyptian raised an eyebrow at his niece's odd inquiry, although he knew what she was referring to. "Come, little one, we will discuss this. Did you finish all your soup?" He looked into the bowl, glad to see only shallow remnants of gravy. He wanted her to eat more. Ardeth took her hand. "Studies, Raja." He gave his leave, and Raja waved goodbye to them.

"I'll find out the mystery of your perfume," she said to Lancelot before she left.

He scoffed. "I could have explained you know."

Arthur sat down. "I doubt she needs to hear of what you do during your free time, Lancelot."

"Try bathing," Tristan said.

"Oh!" Lancelot preened. "This coming from you? You don't wash when we're out on patrol."

"If I did, the animals would notice. You wouldn't have your precious meat if it weren't for me," he retorted levelly; though, his words were laced with warning.

He was about to continue the argument, but Tristan interrupted: "Don't test me," he said with utter calm, "it's a bit early."

Lancelot muttered something under his breath and continued to eat.

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After Raja was finished with her daily lessons she stayed in her uncle's study while he finished his own paper work. She lay on her stomach near the fire playing with Sniffles the Mouse. She would ask him questions. He twitched his whiskers – once for yes, two for no. She did not know she had dozed off until she felt herself being lifted into her uncle's strong arms. Raja felt Sniffles on her shoulder underneath her coat.

"Where we going?" she asked sleepily.

"You are going to take a late afternoon nap," he said.

"I'm not sleepy, though."

Ardeth chuckled lightly as she said those words, drifting back into her haze of slumber. He opened her door, walked to her bed and laid her down gently. Sniffles crawled out from her coat, settling his small body down by her head on the pillow. Ardeth slipped Raja's coat off, her shoes and socks, and the sash around her waist. He pulled the blankets out from underneath her, tucking her in securely.

"Can we play Chess?" she mumbled.

"Later, Raja," he replied gently. "You need rest now." He bent down and kissed her softly on the forehead. He knew she was not yet asleep, her breathing still a bit too heavy, so he sat down on the armchair near her bed and waited for her to drift off.

How he loved his little niece, like his own daughter. But his heart ached for the loss of Raja's parents; his sister, 'Aisha, and Lancelot, his brother-in-law. Sometimes the awesome responsibility of taking care of Raja was daunting. Not because he felt it a burden, far from it, but because her fragile being was in his hands. Such big steps had been taken since their arrival here. She was more independent, more lucid. Ardeth had often had to carry Raja around everywhere, or hold her hand, she so terrified of being separated from him for any period of time.

Ardeth smiled solemnly and fondly at the small girl as her breathing receded into slow, steady breaths.

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Lancelot seethed as the occupants of the fortress stared at them, waiting for the knights to ride out to fight Woads near the shore when they were clearly outnumbered.

"Dammit, Arthur, in case you hadn't noticed there aren't enough of us!" Lancelot spat.

Arthur kept his calm. He knew that it would take time for some of the Roman troops to get there.

"We will have back up, Lancelot."

He scoffed. "Yeah, after the battle is over." He shook his head in contempt, and mounted his horse.

Tristan was already saddled and ready, the first one to have been. Jols and some of the other stable hands were scurrying around, attaching weapons onto the mounts, making sure there were enough arrows. Ardeth moved his large Arabian horse next to Arthur's. They spoke briefly.

Arthur had been a commander for five years, officially taking his position when he had been nineteen. In the scheme of things, he was relatively fresh at leading, and took Ardeth's invaluable advice gratefully. The message had come that there were a mass of natives near the shore. It was only a few hours past dawn. So early.

Ardeth's nerves were calm. The Egyptian was a veteran soldier, and held the highest rank of leader of the Medjai back in Egypt. He had peeked in on Raja before getting himself ready. He had woken her briefly the previous evening so that she would consume some dinner, and after her bath she promptly fell back asleep and had not woken since. Thea said she was more than happy to watch over her while Ardeth was out.

The word was given to ride out; so they rode to meet their enemy.

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Few injuries were sustained. Bruises on all, slight nicks. Ardeth was uninjured. The Roman troops had certainly come as the battle was dwindling. When the knights returned back to the fort it was a little before noon.

Ardeth noticed Vanora wringing her hands fretfully. It could only be Raja. He dismounted quickly, as Vanora approached him.

"She woke up half an hour ago. She's inconsolable, Ardeth. I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at the tall man with worry, a film of tears in her eyes.

Ardeth thanked her and hastened to Raja's room.

The men took notice of the exchange. Their mounts were being led back into the stables to be washed down and fed. Vanora smiled at the men, Bors taking her into a big bear hug.

"What's wrong with my cousin?" Lancelot asked her.

The worried look came back to her face. "She woke up not long ago. She panicked when Ardeth wasn't near, and none of the rest of you. It was no secret where you all were." Her voice wavered, and Bors wrapped a beefy arm around her. "She practically demolished her room, the poor thing."

"She threw a tantrum?" Lancelot said, almost not believing it.

"I think it was more than a tantrum," Vanora snapped. She sniffed. "Well, I'm glad you all returned safely. I'm late for work now." Bors accompanied her.

Tristan walked to his quarters in silence, Arthur and Lancelot, Dagonet, going to theirs soon after. There was nothing they could do.

When Ardeth had entered Raja's room, he saw the havoc the young one had wreaked. Her small writing desk was toppled over, the parchment, quills and bottles of ink scattered on the ground. Pillows were thrown, the goose feathers littering the ground. The blankets were torn from the bed; the water bowl was smashed to pieces. The nightstands were upended as well. It looked as if she tried to throw the armchairs, too, but they sat crooked as if they had been too heavy for her to push over.

Thea was across the room on the other side of the bed. Ardeth walked over and saw her with her hand stretched underneath.

"Ardeth," she said, relieved to see him. "She was absolutely hysterical," she told him, getting up so he could look under the bed.

"Thank you, Thea," he replied.

The Egyptian saw his niece on her stomach, her head turned towards him. Her face was puffy and red, her eyes bloodshot, pupils wide. When she saw him, she raised her head, hitting it on the bed. She scrambled out frantically, throwing herself in her uncle's arm. She began to babble in Arabic while locking her arms around her uncle's neck in a death-grip. Raja sobbed, her words muffled in his shoulder. Ardeth stood up and held her too him, soothing her – or rather, trying to. But she was truly out of her wits.

He caught some of her words: "Weren't here...gone...left me..."

It went on for some time. Thea brought in an unbroken washbowl and left again with a concerned expression. Ardeth walked back and forth, pacing the room with the little figure in his arms. Her cries did not abate; her tears soaked his black tunic while she rambled nonsensically.

It was nearly an hour later when her sobs began to wind down. He sat down on the bed, Raja still refusing to let go, legs and arms still wrapped around him. Her body shook continuously.

"Little one," he hushed, "I am here." He moved his head so he could look at her, and her eyes slowly met his. He kissed her on the forehead, feeling the waves of heat coming from her skin. "I am here."

She sniffed. "You weren't," she said, her voice quivering, tears falling in fat drops down her forlorn face. "I woke up and you weren't here. No one was here!" She buried her head in his shoulder again.

Another hour went by with Raja in his arms. Finally, when she was still, he stood up and walked towards the bed so she could sit down. "I am going to set you on the bed, little one, so I can wash your face. Hmm?"

She shook her head no, face rubbing against his shoulder. "The water will be cool," he told her, tone gentle. After few moments, Raja's hold let up, just a bit. He managed to get her to disengage herself. He took the wash bowl and the cloth, and kneeled in front of her, setting the bowl on the floor as the bedside table was knocked over. Raja's face was a state of agony as the washcloth was tenderly wiped over her face. Then her hands which had scratches on them.

Her breaths were shuddery, her clothes in disarray. She was still in her nightgown and breeches. When the little Egyptian's face was free of grime, Ardeth said his next words with soft assurance. "How about we get you cleaned up, then we can have a late lunch?" Raja contemplated his suggestion.

"Okay," she consented, but with trepidation. "You won't leave me, will you?"

"Of course not," he replied. He got up and took a step away.

"Where are you going?!" she screeched. She went to stand up to follow him, but her legs were unsteady.

Ardeth promptly hoisted her up, truncating the fall of fresh tears. "I was just going to get some fresh clothes from your dresser, Raja."

Her arms wrapped in that viselike grip around his neck again, as if she did not quite believe him. Holding her with one arm, as he knew she would be reticent to let go, he easily retrieved some clean clothes from her drawers. Tristan was coming around the corner as Ardeth carried Raja to his room.

Tristan's eyes widened a fraction at the complete and utter distress on her face. It was different than when she went into one of her catatonic states, her face was always blank then. Now, it was filled with a sense of fear as if she was afraid something would be taken from her. And she looked so incredibly small in Ardeth's arms. Ardeth gave Tristan a small smile.

"Raja," he said softly to his niece, whose head was again flat against his shoulder, "Tristan's here."

Slowly, her head lifted and turned to see Tristan. She wiped her face with one hand, the other still clinging to her uncle. "Hi, Trissy," she said, her voice hoarse. "Did you get hurt?" she asked, looking him up and down.

Tristan's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "No."

"That's good." Raja nodded. "I don't want you hurt." Almost in slow-motion, she turned away, fully holding onto her uncle again.

Ardeth saw the inquiry in Tristan's eyes. "She will need some time," he told him.

Tristan nodded, not resuming his walk until Ardeth was halfway down the hall. He continued to walk until he passed Raja's room. Vanora was right; Raja had done a number on her room. At least for a nine year old, and a tiny one at that. He scanned the entire room, stepping in. Without even knowing it, he began to clean it up.

Not even ten minutes later, he sensed a presence at the door and turned. Lancelot was staring at the room, more shocked than Tristan had been. His eyes landed on Tristan's, their eyes pinned on each other for a mere moment. Behind his long bangs, the scout's eyes mirrored the look of understanding in Lancelot's. No words were spoken as Raja's cousin stepped in. They cleaned the room in companionable silence.

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Ardeth tried to get Raja to eat a little more food. They sat in his room at the table eating their meal. Both were cleaned up, the puffiness and redness was nearly gone from the young girl's face. She had not eaten since the night before, and she had expended the little strength she had had earlier that morning. Raja was lethargic and shaky, eyes still wide; her body tuned to her uncle's every movement, making sure that he was near.

The Egyptian had been surprised to see Raja's room back in order; although, the pillows were rather flat due to their lack of cushion. It was only dusk when he tucked Raja in, once again, it took some coaxing to get her to release her hold on him. He knew leaving her to sleep alone this night would not go over well, so he settled himself in the armchair, better to be in eyeshot if she were to wake in the night, and when she woke in the morning.

"I scared Sniffles away," she said sadly.

"I am sure he will return, Raja," he said, feeling her forehead for fever. She was still a bit warm. He set a cup of water on the nightstand and made sure the washbowl was filled with fresh water.

He read to her, but she was so reluctant to go to sleep that by sheer will she would not submit.

"You must rest, little one," he urged softly.

Her eyes opened wide. "What if you're not here in the morning?"

"I will be."

"You weren't here this morning," she accused, her tone high.

Ardeth took her little hands in one of his, not wanting her to become hysteric. "I promise I will be right here when you awake."

Raja let out a gust of exhausted breath. "_Baba_ didn't come back."

Ardeth's brow creased. That was true. She had watched her mother die, the certainty of her death was known. But her father had hid them in a room, he had to go and defend the Colony with the rest of the men. When Raja was lucid enough, nearly two months later, the memories gradually came back. Bits and pieces, clearer. How she had called for her mother and father. The last thing she remembered of her father was him telling her and her mother that he loved them. It was a good time later before Ardeth and his brother, Memnon, took her to the family tomb. 'Aisha and Lancelot both in their coffins, mummified and sealed with the rest of the ancestors.

Perhaps there was no good time to have taken the young girl to visit her parents' coffins. She had wanted to break them open, see them, hold them. Of course, that could not have been done. When it was obvious she was headed for a complete breakdown she had to be taken from the room, screaming for her mother and father.

"He tried, Raja," he said.

A single tear slipped down the side of her face, her eyes closed. For the second night in a row, Ardeth sat with his niece. He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. He was a warrior, had always been. Nobility by birth, upper class. Commander in General Chief, five thousand men under his orders. If he had stayed in Egypt, he would be busier than he was here. Here, he had more time for Raja. Ardeth wanted no tutors or nursemaids for her. Memnon had tried to convince him to stay, and two months ago, get him to return. But Raja was taking great steps here.

He even thought about what it would do to the men; especially Tristan and Lancelot. Ardeth had known those two for years, but he saw immense changes in the two of them since they had met and bonded with Raja. True, it had taken Lancelot a bit more time, but Ardeth could see a deeper sense of responsibility that had nothing to do with being First Knight, coming over him. And Tristan, the solitary warrior. Methodical, lethal, vicious – in battle. The Egyptian had seen a loneliness, emptiness in him. He had seen it in many warriors. Separation from family at a young age was painful enough, but thrown into bloody servitude in accompaniment added to the hurt. Tristan was also more reserved when it came to battle; his tribe in Sarmatia had different ways than most of the others. Those tattoos on his face were markings for a coming-of-age male. A first kill. Now a man. But little Raja had softened something in that man, saving a warrior's wandering soul from stumbling into darkness.

Ardeth took once last glance at Raja before setting his head back against the cushioned chair.

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Lancelot stumbled into his room in an inebriated stupor. Not fully drunk, but enough to make his gait unsteady. He plopped on his bed and pulled his boots off, socks, vest, belt, tunic before falling on his back onto the bed. He was going to have a raging headache in the morning.

Hmm...why had he drunk more than he usually did that evening? And there was no woman with him.

_Too tired,_ he thought to himself.

His eyes closed, but he did not fall asleep. Later he felt something skitter across his neck, and he jumped. Lancelot turned his head side to side before his eyes landed on two blurry blobs on the pillow next to the one his head had just been on. He was seeing double and waiting for his eyesight to adjust, then he saw a small mouse sitting immobile. His head swam, hitting the pillow again.

Lancelot turned his head slowly towards the mouse. "Which one are you?" he asked unsteadily. "Skiffles? Spiffles?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't matter." Silence. "Did you shit in my room? That's all you mice do when you come in here."

Sniffles twitched his whiskers twice.

Lancelot didn't register the significance of the movement.

"Well, whatever," he mumbled. "Shit all you want. But leave my boots alone, okay?" He sighed heavily. "What the hell are you doing in here, anyway? You should be with Raja."

Sniffles moved a bit closer on the pillow.

"How is Raja?" he asked. "You seen her?"

Twitch. Twitch.

"Yeah," Lancelot continued. "I helped Tristan straighten up her room. Shit, when Vanora said she trashed her room, I was thinking that she threw a little tantrum." He let out a puff of wry amusement. "I didn't think my cousin was capable of doing that. She's so _small_. Not that that's a bad thing, but Christ." He ran a hand down his face. "I didn't go see her. You know, I've seen a lot of gory stuff. Guts, blood, heads rolling around. But I hate seeing my cousin in pain." Lancelot looked straight in Sniffles black eyes. "Pathetic, huh?"

Twitch. Twitch.

"Never anything I can do for her. Before I first met her, I was a little scared. I mean, I hadn't seen my family in years, then here's this little girl I have never met. Blood family. Ardeth said for a visit. I didn't want to get close to her. What'd be the point of getting to know her if she was just going to leave? I've been separated from enough family," he said scornfully. "I thought maybe she'd be a bit spoiled. Nobility and all that. That runt grows on you. I had a little sister, but I can barely remember her face now."

He lay silent for a moment, trying to conjure the faces of his little sister and the rest of his family. They were all off.

"I didn't think I would feel protective of Raja. Not used to being around kids, too busy slaying Woads. So goddamn tiny. I feel like I could crush her in my arms when I hug her. I was a real bastard earlier. Imagine my shock when she said she loved me. Hell, I couldn't remember the last time someone said that to me. Or even did something nice for me without wanting something in return. 'Cept for that time she shaved my head. Guess I kinda had that coming though, huh?"

Twitch.

"I love the kid, too. When Memnon was here, said she was leaving...it actually hurt. Realized that I didn't want her to. I was also kind of jealous that she has the freedom to leave. But imagine, she wanted to stay here." He snorted. "She's my blood. It's nice having someone to remember with. But don't go telling this to anyone, okay? I'd never hear the end of it. I have a reputation to protect."

Lancelot spoke for a while longer, until his voice trailed off.

_Did I just have a conversation with a fucking mouse?_ he asked himself as he fell into a deep sleep.

Twitch.

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Raja had slept fitfully throughout the night. Eyes popping open, making sure her uncle was still there. She wouldn't let him leave to get her breakfast, she went with him, then followed him back to her room. It went on like this for the next couple of days. The little girl had reverted back to her dependency. Spikes of panic would stab her in the chest if her uncle was gone for too long, or if she thought he wouldn't stay with her while she slept.

When he attended the meetings with the knights, she sat outside the double doors, getting up to put her ear to the door, waiting to hear his voice. If she didn't, she'd send Sniffles in there, the small creature sneaking in under the door. Then he would come out and twitch his whiskers once – yes, he was in there. Deep down, Raja _knew_ her uncle was there, but there was just a raw, undiluted piece of fear deep in her heart that he would just – poof! – disappear. Raja was just bending down near the door to pick Sniffles up when it opened. She looked up at the face of her uncle, smiling sheepishly.

"Have you been here the whole time?" he asked her.

"We were waiting for you." Raja held Sniffles up.

Ardeth stepped aside so the rest of the men could file out the door. "Come, little one, we need to have a discussion."

Raja's brow raised a fraction. "Am I in trouble?"

He chuckled. "No, not at all."

They settled into his study, Ardeth sat, lifting Raja on his lap. "Now, why were you waiting outside the doors? I was in there for near two hours."

"Hmm..." Raja pressed her lips together, petting Sniffles as she thought. "I was just making sure...you were there. That's all."

He nodded. "If I had gone you would have seen me, no?"

She dipped her head to side, her eyes darting sideways. "Yes."

"I know you are frightened, and there is nothing wrong with that. But there are many things you could be doing other than waiting around for me. You have not ruined any of Tristan's hunts this week."

Raja grinned widely.

"In fact, he is probably on his way out right now."

"If I go, can Sniffles stay here with you?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Of course." He lifted Raja off of his lap, and let her place the little mouse in his hand. Ardeth noticed her hesitation to leave the room.

"Okay," she said quietly after a moment. "Can we play Chess when I get back?"

"Whatever you would like." He bent down and kissed her on the head. And with a small wave at the door, she left.

Raja hurried to stables, hoping she would catch Tristan before he left. He was saddling Dyne when she came in. "Where are you going?"

He shrugged. "Well, I was going hunting, I see that's not going to happen now though." Tristan smirked at her to show that he was not irked. "Get Odin ready."

Odin had grown significantly since she had found him, and was really too big for her. But no camel, donkey or elephant had ever been able to throw her off, and Odin would never hurt her. Tristan hoisted the saddle on Odin's back, letting Raja finish. Less than ten minutes later, they were off and riding, Horus and Penelo overhead.

They stopped at their usual spot, letting the horses graze. Tristan sat leisurely, cutting the skin of an apple with his dagger. Raja went around and gathered some flowers. When she had enough she went back to Tristan and sat down next to him, carefully making a crown of flowers.

"I made one for Lancelot," she said, "but he wouldn't wear it." Raja looked up at him as if to say: _Will you?_

Tristan hmmphed. Raja didn't push it then, so they sat in quiet.

After a time, Raja spoke: "Trissy, do you remember your parents?"

He stopped chewing for a moment, then swallowed heavily. "My father died when I was young, so - no. My mother I remember."

Raja stopped what she was doing and stared at Tristan. "What was she like?"

He looked at the apt gaze of his small friend. Tristan had spoken bits and pieces about his mother to her before, but they'd never really had a conversation. "She was...a good woman and mother. Funny, smart."

"What else?"

"She had a pretty smile, I liked to hear her laugh. She would have liked you."

"Really?" she asked, astonished.

He nodded and smiled.

She said softly: "Do you miss her a lot, Trissy?"

Tristan did a swipe of his teeth with his tongue, sucking in a sharp hiss of air. "Yeah."

"Did you...did you cry when you had to leave?"

"No."

"What about later?"

Tristan nearly lied. But if anyone would understand, not think less of him, she would. "On the ship, when all of us were crowded together. I'd sit in a corner."

Raja scooted right next to him and into his lap. "I bet a lot of other boys were crying, too."

He accepted her closeness, rather grateful for it.

She looked up at him. "When's the last time you cried?"

Tristan had to contemplate that one. After a minute, he could honestly say he didn't remember. But he recalled the last time he _almost_ cried. When the little girl in his arms had been captured by Woads. Almost. But that was still the strongest emotion he had had in years that wasn't anger.

Raja picked up a flower and went to put it behind Tristan's ear.

He grumbled, moving his head slightly. "Please?" she said. Tristan grumbled again and let her with a thoroughly disgruntled expression.

"I don't think I have to tell you to not say a word of this," he grunted.

"Of course not," she assured him, patting him on the hand.

A breeze brushed passed them as they lapsed into quiet. Her head against his chest, hearing his heart beat, Raja traced the lines on Tristan's rough palm. Evidence of his hard life.

"Trissy."

"Hmm?"

She had to raise her head again to look at him. "I just wanted you to know, that if I ever had to leave you," – she clamped onto his hand tightly - "I would cry."

5/26/07


End file.
